


Imperfect Exchange

by furious_hope



Series: Daily(ish) femslash [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Dorcas Evans), Angst, BAMF Marlene McKinnon, F/F, First War with Voldemort, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Jealousy, Muggle-born Slytherin, Pining, Slytherin Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furious_hope/pseuds/furious_hope
Summary: Marlene McKinnon, the perfect Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, is the last person Dorcas Meadowes wants to find out her secret: she's the first Muggleborn to be Sorted into Slytherin in centuries. In the midst of rising war and interhouse tension, an Exchange Spell between the two girls leads to tentative friendship and more.
Relationships: Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes
Series: Daily(ish) femslash [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584034
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Imperfect Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> This is fully plotted, lots is written, aiming to update once a week or so.
> 
> Enjoying post exam period by finally getting drafted things up :)

Dorcas Meadowes refused. She would not bloody accept this. She had not got this far, tricked Parkinsons and Blacks and Malfoy and **Nott** , to let fucking Marlene McKinnon work it out. McKinnon was a Beater, for fucks sake! They weren’t exactly known for their intellect. Dorcas had managed for nearly five years, how was this even possible? She knew getting potions advice off Lily Evans had been a bad idea, even if Severus was unbearable and smug and an actually _terrible_ teacher. She had gotten too relaxed was the problem. Lily’s company was pleasant, and the younger girl had so little in the way of hidden intentions that it was like a warm bath of earnestness. But she should have realised that letting her guard down was a bad idea. She had known that already, but had let herself ignore that she was lowering it. Shit.

Lily hadn’t noticed, that was the only redeeming feature of this situation. Besides, as a Mudblood, she probably wouldn’t have realised what the phrase meant. She had been saying something about how surprised she had been by Dorcas’ quick grasp of the Muggle science concept of equilibrium, given her blood status, and Dorcas had ironically murmured the Wizarding phrase: look for fire to find a Dragon. And now Marlene was staring at her with startled eyes, and she was royally screwed.

No! She refused. This was ridiculous, and anyway, McKinnon didn’t _know,_ she only suspected, which was a completely different thing. She met McKinnon’s gaze with a bored and slightly contemptuous look, as though she didn’t understand why the girl was staring, before turning back to Lily. For the next few hours, she tried to focus fully on Lily’s explanations of the reason salamander skin should not be mixed with eye of newt, and the practice of partial distillation on potions requiring indecision. Normally, it would be easy to concentrate, Lily having such a genuine enjoyment of the subject matter as to be contagious, but her entire body was tensed at the possibilities of what McKinnon might _do_ with the information she had so carelessly revealed. Ignoring McKinnon’s searching gaze watching her from the corner, Dorcas briefly considered upping the haughty Pureblood mannerisms, before discarding that idea as suspicious.

Finally, _finally_ , the potions tuition session came to a close. Lily smiled at her as they packed up, and said “See you next week same time?”

Dorcas found that her eyes were on McKinnon, despite her best intentions, and quickly turned to Lily. “Yes, thank you for your help today, Evans.”

Lily replied exasperatedly, “How many times? Call me Lily!” She smiled to soften her tone. Walking over to McKinnon, she moved to link their arms, ready to leave, but McKinnon instead awkwardly disengaged and said “I’ll - I think - I’m going to have a quick word with Meadowes. You go on ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute, alright?”

Lily looked puzzled, as well she might given the hostility between the two of them, but when she gave Marlene a slightly concerned look, it was met with an imploring one. She very clearly decided not to comment. She left them standing there, facing each other alone in the room, both reluctant to break the silence.

Finally Dorcas decided to get it over with. “What’s this about? I’m not an aimless Gryffindor you know. I do have things to get on with, and scintillating as your silence _isn’t_ , I’d rather like to leave for lessons.”

“You’re - you’re a Muggleborn!” Marlene blurted out, and then looked like she was regretting approaching it so bluntly. Dorcas actually appreciated the bluntness: Gryffindors never understood that it was easier to turn away a direct insult than a subtle implication.

“What?” Dorcas turned her most scornful look at Marlene, before gently chuckling. “What on earth? Have you been breathing in the dungeon fumes or did you just get hit in the head with a Bludger one too many times, McKinnon? A Slytherin Muggleborn?! That’s not possible, as I would have _thought_ you would know. Lily is the Muggleborn, McKinnon. Not me. Lily Evans, fourth year girl, about this tall,” she gestured just below her shoulder, “bright red hair, one of you Gryffindorks, left this room, oh, about a minute ago, you might remember her?” She poured on the scorn, hoping it would flood McKinnon with doubt but already seeing the belligerent look lighting the Gryffindor girl’s eyes. Shit.

“It’s not impossible for you _both_ to be Muggleborns, you know. And you sound awfully defensive for someone who’s not one.” McKinnon sounded more uncertain than before, but no less determined. “You just said more words to me in that one minute than you ever have before. I highly doubt you’d react to something wrong so strongly.”

She paused a second, before the words seemed to burst from her mouth. “Blimmin' hell, Meadowes, how are you doing it?”

Dorcas knew she left it too long before replying. She just hated when the posh Purebloods adopted Muggle swearwords as something ‘gritty’ and exciting. Nearly all the Gryffindors did it. Potter and Black’s speech was littered with careful Muggle phrases enunciated in that teeth-gritting posh drawl. She hated it. She had worked so hard to bring her own speech, her own _thoughts_ up to the posh, overly grammatical standard of Purebloods. And they got to take phrases she’d carefully weeded out of her own speech, that had she was mocked and abused for, that had stopped her talking for most of first year, and turn them into fun novelties. She pushed it from her mind and gathered herself to respond.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’re quite finished spouting nonsense, I’ve had enough and I’ve gotta go.”

She swept from the room, but she had failed, and she knew it. The last slip into the more informal cadence of home had just been the final blow. She had been so irritated that she hadn’t watched her speech with her usual exacting precise standards, and Marlene’s clever eyes had caught the slip, she _knew._

She breathed harshly, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. A flash of rage spasmed through her, but Dorcas Meadowes wasn’t the first Muggleborn Slytherin in centuries (probably five, to be precise, possibly ever but she liked to think not) for no reason, and she quickly regained her brain. She had plans for this. She knew her plans for this inside out. The only reason she was feeling so disorientated, so worried, so.. so… scared, was that -

Oh for fucks sake, she used to fancy Marlene bloody McKinnon. 

It was cliche, it was boring and it was hairpullingly frustrating. Every queer girl to have walked the halls of Hogwarts in the last five years had fancied Marlene at some point. (Hell, half of Beauxbatons seemed to as well, given the rumours she had gathered of the Quidditch exchange programme.) She was kind and annoyingly funny and brave (fucking _Gryffindor_ ), and just smart enough to be interesting. Which was to mention nothing of her effing biceps, but that was besides the point.

Anyway, Dorcas had gotten over all that. She was embarrassed to have ever fancied her, but it wasn’t exactly noteworthy, even if she did feel ridiculous for crushing on the one girl everyone wanted. It was, well, common and boring and just stupid. All things Dorcas prided herself on not being.

Anyway, plan, fucking plan time! She quickly skimmed her mental notes on Marlene, trying to fit her into one of the plans. Dorcas had been trying to perfect _Obliviate_ recently, but without any way to practice she wasn’t sure she could do it with enough finesse (she had tried to bribe, bully or blackmail various younger Slytherins into being practice guinea pigs, but they were all rather wary of other people in their heads, which was understandable, though frustrating). Theory was all very well and good, but it was no guarantee of success. She would use such a spell without a hint of regret if it worked, but done mediocrely it could cause the sort of damage which offended her and felt clumsy. So, another plan.

Here, she paused. Almost the entirety of her plans were shaped for the idea that she be dealing with a fellow Slytherin, or perhaps a Ravenclaw. The idea that a bloody _Gryffindor_ had - Not helpful, back to the plan. She had ridiculous amounts of blackmail worthy information collected on every Slytherin in school. A little on most Ravenclaws, particularly the older years, and some on a few of the Puffs and Gryffindors. Was any of it useful?

She could tell Marlene she’d better keep her gob closed or she’d spill about Amanda Pritchard. But she didn’t know that Marlene even liked her, they were Potions partners but that was about it. Quidditch? But bloody McKinnon would never take secret information on the Slytherin team, all about the clean game and all that rubbish. Anyway, Dorcas didn’t like the idea of being at the disadvantage. She’d be constantly providing information to match one secret, that wasn’t any good.

Maybe McKinnon would keep her mouth shut anyway? She tried to imagine it, just hoping McKinnon wouldn’t spill, would never get drunk at a Quidditch party and say, with a laughing smile ‘hey mates, ever heard about Meadowes, it’s the funniest thing…’. She shuddered. No, the constant power Marlene would have over her. Fuck no.

She needed more information. She would take the memory of their encounter out and study it in the illicit Pensieve that third year Ravenclaw had, Brown owed her a favour anyway, and he wouldn’t have the gumption to try to get the memory traces after it was gone. She might be able to brazen it out, pretend McKinnon was mistaken. If not, she could always talk to McKinnon about it. She’d find a way to put her on the back foot (something alcohol related, or a threat, or just a shock, she could work out the details once she’d seen the memory). Gryffindors always leaked their thoughts on their faces, and when confused or facing multiple things at once they were like particularly wet sponges being squeezed in terms of leakage. Ugh. There would be a way to get this all back.

Now with a plan of action, Dorcas strode off down the corridor, remembering to thank Slughorn (odious fool, but useful of course) for the generous use of his classroom. He winced slightly when she said something, and she carefully flattened her voice back to a Pureblood drawl, the one that always made her spine crawl, so unlike the rounded nasal burr of home. Not that home was exactly welcoming, but. Nonetheless, it showed how shaken she was by it all, if she couldn’t even control her bloody voice. The last lapse she’d had had been in second year, and she’d been bleeding out in a corridor due to a particularly nasty Slicing Charm at the time, so she forgave herself that.

* * *

Standing in the room after Meadowes had left, Marlene stared at the floor in disbelief. She couldn’t understand this. Before this, she would have sworn a Muggleborn Slytherin was impossible! She thought they couldn’t even be sorted into Slytherin. And if she’d had to guess, Meadowes, with her mannerisms and entitled demeanour, would have been near the bottom of the list. It just seemed so _unlikely_.

Meadowes was elegant and icy and controlled, the mirror image of all the Pureblood ladies who gossiped at the balls her parents sometimes dragged her to. But the look in Meadowes eyes had been so strange. The sheer volume of words Dorcas had said also seemed too panicked to be anything but denial. If it weren’t true, Marlene would have expected derision or shock or humour or annoyance or aggravation. As it was, she had gotten a little bit of all of them, but overall nothing except quiet worry, maybe even fear. Marlene’s instincts screamed this was something. But what kind of thing? And even if she was right (she was, she knew she was!), what would she do with that. She wandered down the corridor slowly, thinking about it.

Dorcas Meadowes was a Muggleborn. Right, but so what? She wasn’t exactly about to tell anyone else. It was the sort of information that would ruin Meadowes’ life. Marlene shivered thinking about the prospects for a Muggleborn living in the Slytherin Common Room. Meadowes was a piece of work (there was a reason she’d decided to accompany Lily in the tuition sessions!) but she wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy.

Alright, so she wouldn’t say anything to anyone. It had too much potential to do harm. Catching sight of the low light flickering through the window, she cast a quick _Tempus_ and winced internally at the results. She’d gotten caught up thinking about this, and now she was going to be late to Quidditch practice. What kind of a Captain was she, if she couldn’t even manage to be on time? And with what had happened last match - she just was failing… She quashed that train of thought and turned to run to Gryffindor Tower. If she got her gear, grabbed a sandwich for lunch on the way, and ran, she might even be on time.

* * *

Marlene huffed out a breath of air, trying to strain her aching muscles one more inch. She had set up a series of moving balls somewhat like semi-stationary Bludgers. Now, she was running the course of them, trying to hit them away before they hit her. This on it’s own would be child’s play (literally: her mum had set up obstacle courses somewhat like this when she was younger), but she had placed certain targets (representing other Gryffindor players) which she must avoid hitting with the balls. On top of that, she was practicing her much neglected Charms work by attempting to sustain the Charms as she flew, rather than setting them up using long-lasting ones. It was, she admitted to herself, as she jerked out of the way of one of the balls which had just nearly brained her, perhaps a little ambitious.

Several of her teammates were coming out of the changing rooms, having finished washing and getting changed after the main practice. One of them gestured towards her, beckoning her over. (It looked like Marcus, though she couldn’t be sure from this far away, she glanced over and then winced when a ball glanced off her shin - ouch - she couldn’t afford to get distracted.) She belted the last two balls over the pitch, and then froze the Charm, feeling an oncoming headache from the effort. Finally ready, she flew over. Definitely Marcus who had beckoned. She skimmed to a none-too-elegant stop in front of him. He was frowning at her.

“Captain,” he started, somewhat hesitantly, “I know you like doing extra practice, but we worked for nearly three hours this afternoon. Couldn’t you, you know, give it a rest just this once?”

Ashraf had come up behind him, and now she chimed in. “Yeah, you look exhausted Marls!”

Marcus, who was unusually tactful and reserved for a Gryffindor, winced and looked briefly pissed off, before sighing. “She’s right.”

Marlene felt briefly angry herself. What made them think they could tell their Captain what to do? Her bone-deep weariness quickly doused the flames of annoyance, as well as the memory of saying something similar to Thalia Wood, back when she was a spotty little third year herself, thoroughly in awe of, but also seriously worried about, her Captain. It was her fault for worrying them.

“You’re both right.” She gave them a small smile, and Ashraf straightened up, Marcus stopping his fidgeting with his tie. “I just wanted to do better than last match.”

They all collectively winced. She felt guilty, but continued quickly, trying to lift the mood. “Anyway, thanks for pulling me out. Get a bit Quidditch mad sometimes, don’t I?” She tried for a laugh. It was successful, apparently, if even it didn’t feel that way, by the worry disappearing from their faces. Good. “I’ll just clear up and then follow the lot of you in.”

They trooped off, and she waited, occupying herself with pretending to polish her broom, crouched on the floor, unable to move her aching legs, as the last of the stragglers left the changing rooms and headed to the castle. Finally, when she was sure everyone had left and she was completely alone, she let go of the charms.

Every ball and target over the pitch plummeted to the ground.

The screaming headache that had been looming suddenly edged straight into painful reality. She closed her eyes. Uncontrolled Charm finishes was something that the most unskilled second year had mostly got under control. She was tired, or if you listened to Sally ‘exhausted’, but it wasn’t good enough. She was better than this. She’d had every advantage. If she couldn’t even -

The steely voice came out of nowhere. “That was interesting. I don’t believe I’ve seen such complete lack of control from anyone since Goyle exploded Parkinson’s desk with an uncontrolled _Reducto_.”

She opened her eyes to the unpleasant sight (not completely unpleasant, part of her murmured, but she quickly shunted it aside) of Dorcas Meadowes, resplendent in Slytherin green outer robes, despite it being the weekend, and staring at where Marlene was collapsed on the grass.

She jumped up, ignoring the complaints of her thighs and abdomen, and oh who was she kidding, everywhere in her body. Dorcas might have looked slightly startled, but then it was always hard to tell.

“Why are you here, Meadowes?” The hostility in her voice was a little blatant, but she was tired. Normally, she tried to keep the peace, if only for Lily’s sake, but she just couldn’t right now. She felt raw. Stripped to the bone. That Meadowes was the one to see her like this. It hurt, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to pull it all together.

“Ooh, feeling a little touchy are we, McKinnon? What could possibly go wrong for the beloved Gryffindor Captain?” Her voice sounded playful, but there was a hint of underlying mocking bitterness.

Marlene looked into the dark green eyes of the girl facing her. She ached. She wanted to shout, but she felt too tired. She looked at Dorcas, and suddenly just couldn’t see the point.

“Please, Meadowes. Just… not right now, alright?”

That was definite surprise on Dorcas’ face. Surprise and something she couldn’t read. Normally, Marlene would feel jubilant at getting under her skin, but she couldn’t summon the energy. She started towards the changing rooms. Meadowes quickly followed, running slightly to catch up with her quick pace. When she caught up, Marlene could see her face had been smoothed down to hostile blankness once more.

“I suppose you think I have to do everything you say, now that you know?” she hissed.

Marlene started, confused but also taken aback by the tone. What did she mean- Meadowes thought she was going to blackmail her? Oh Merlin.

“No, of course not!” She was horrified by the idea, and thought that was clear in her tone, but Meadowes still looked suspicious. She kept going, trying to get that look off the other girl’s face. “I’d never! That would be an awful thing to do. I promise, Meadowes, we might not get on, but…” She trailed off, trying to express that she wasn’t a blackmailer.

“Really, and you would never do an awful thing like that, McKinnon?” Meadowes sounded disgusted and angry, lashing out with the first thing she could say, all her normal icy control gone. Was that what Meadowes seriously thought of her? Marlene was far from perfect, but that felt unfair, and furthermore, totally unprovoked. She was trying to reassure Meadowes, and just getting insulted for her trouble. “What are you trying to say?” She glared at the Slytherin.

Meadowes stayed silent for a second, studying her face, before remarking “It doesn’t matter anyway. If you try to tell _anyone,_ I will let your beloved Lily know exactly how _beloved_ she is by you. Doubt you fancy that, hah, McKinnon?”

Marlene was put on the back foot by the quiet vitriol in the girl’s voice before the content of her words registered. “What the hell, Meadowes?” She snapped out. Stepping back, she felt anger coursing through her. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but I do _not_ fancy Lily, and if I ever did, it doesn’t matter.”

Meadowes retaliated quickly. “You won’t mind if I inform her, then?”

Marlene hated the look of sly satisfaction painting her face. She’d talk to Meadowes about this some other time, get it properly settled, but if she didn’t leave now, she was going to lose her temper. As she turned and went to walk away, Meadowes’ angry voice shouted at her back, “Don’t walk away! I’ll tell Lily.” She ignored it.

Suddenly, a burst of light slammed into the tree next to her. Instinctually, she ducked and flung a quick stunner behind her. Turning to see where it had come from, she spotted Meadowes’ raised wand arm. What was Meadowes doing?! Meadowes had dodged her stunner, and now let loose a Bat-Boogey Hex. Marlene barely raised a shield in time, falling down as she went. This was ridiculous and stupid, but Marlene wasn’t going to be the one to back down. She stood, raising her wand ready to cast to disarm, when her wand was pulled from her hand. She looked at Meadowes, but her wand was also soaring away.

Straight into the hand of Madam Hooch. Marlene felt panic strike through her. She was illegally _duelling_ , on the Quidditch pitch! How did Meadowes always manage to get to her? She would probably lose her Captaincy for this, oh Godric! Everyone was going to be so disappointed. She focussed back on Madam Hooch, who was sternly remonstrating with them both.

“-utterly _unacceptable_ , I expect better of sixth years! How dare you fight one another, flinging spells around next to the pitch, I’ve never _seen_ such a thing.” She rounded on Marlene. “Ms. McKinnon, as a Captain, such behaviour is completely unforgivable. I don’t know what you were _thinking_. Detention, tomorrow evening, for both of you, and every night this week, or until you learn to behave like civilised young Witches. And fifty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin. I’m ashamed to see such behaviour out of any student, let alone you two.”

Marlene bowed her head, feeling shame washing over her. At least it seemed as thought she’d keep her Captaincy, Madam Hooch not seeming as angry as she might have been. Not that she deserved it after that. Merlin, what had she been thinking?

Madam Hooch finished speaking, and gestured impatiently for both of them to leave. Marlne swallowed around the tears that were threatening and went to clear up and get changed. There was no sign of Meadowes once she reemerged.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, kudos and comments always appreciated!
> 
> If you spot any mistakes, please let me know. I've checked a few times, but often miss things. Anyway, at this point I just want to post this and move onto editing chapter two, so I can get going.
> 
> I've been looking forward to this one for a while, I love the concept of being a Muggleborn Slytherin, and I love the version of Marlene McKinnon in my head, so it's been great fun to write. Dorcas is being a bit arseholish but she has her reasons.


End file.
